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It started raining as we drove out of the small town of Wimberly, into the hills. The views were spectacular as we crested hill after hill and the vista of the entire valley was spread out before us. I tried to enjoy the view since for once I wasn’t driving.
The rain got harder though, really driving, and soon there wasn’t much to see. There were a couple rainy seasons in Texas—the usual one, spring, and then again in fall sometimes during hurricane season, when any came through the Gulf Coast. I thought I remembered them talking about a tropical depression or something on the news this morning. I hadn’t paid much attention because it’d been downgraded from a hurricane and it wasn’t landing during the actual wedding.
I religiously stalked the ten-day forecast and while there were supposed to be showers late today, the furthest of the ten day was still clear with sunny skies, thank God.
When the road dipped down to cross one of the many streams that was usually a trickle, if not bone dry by this time of year, there was water rushing underneath the bridge.
Jeremiah grimaced as he slowed the truck down. “I don’t like the look of that.”
“How much farther is it?”
“Another twenty minutes.”
I pushed up so I could look over my shoulder at the stream. It was still about two feet below the road but I’d lived in the area long enough to know how quick flash-flooding could hit with rain like this. At the same time, we were on a tight schedule. It wasn’t like Jeremiah had another half day to waste coming all the way back out here.
I looked back at Jeremiah. “If we’re quick it should be fine.”
He nodded and we kept on going forward.
When we came to another low water crossing—I wasn’t sure if it was the same stream curving back around again or a different one—I looked to Jeremiah, expecting him to second-guess the decision to keep going forward. But he didn’t even slow down this time. He barreled on ahead; if anything, stepping on the gas even more.
Okay. Well, apparently, we were doing this.
I held onto the door as the truck bounced along the uneven road and we climbed back up another hill out of the valley.
Raul’s place was at the top of a twisty hill, the dirt road turned to mud. A vehicle without four-wheel drive wouldn’t have been able to even make it to the top. Jeremiah’s jaw was locked as he maneuvered the truck the last bit to the top, slipping and sliding as the wheels fought the mud for traction, but finally getting us there.
I was tempted to stay in the car while Jeremiah did his business, but my Texan blood wouldn’t let me. Plus the fact that considering the conditions out there, I was damn well gonna make sure he attached the trailer correctly.
So as soon as I saw Jeremiah and another man—Raul, I assumed—line up the trailer, I jumped out to go watch as they hitched it. I was drenched in two seconds from the pouring rain, but that was nothing new.
They were just attaching the chains, two, which was regulation, and they’d gotten the ball and lynch pin on right.
Jeremiah waved me away and I went back to the car after a quick look at the trailer. It wasn’t new by any stretch of the imagination. I hoped Jeremiah hadn’t paid much for it. That it was “functional” was the best that could be said for it.
Rain dripped from my hair onto my face and I cranked up the heat, but only for a second, because that quickly made it feel too humid and stuffy.
Minutes later I felt a tug on the truck like they were testing the chains, then Jeremiah was yanking open the door and jumping back in the driver’s seat.
“All right, let’s get the hell outta here.”
I nodded. Fine by me.
It took some maneuvering to turn around in the tight space of the parking area by Raul’s ranch house, especially in the mud, but we finally made it and then we were trundling back down the hillside.
I could tell Jeremiah was trying to take it slow and careful, but with the added weight of the trailer behind us, it was occasionally just a controlled slide. I think we were both breathing easier once we made it back to the pavement of the main county road. My knuckles were white from clutching my door and the oh shit bar, anyway.
It was still about an hour till we got back home, but at least we were off that damn hill.
I was feeling better, till we got to the first low-water crossing, anyway. And saw that the water had somehow gained the two feet in the forty-five minutes it had taken us driving and hitching the trailer.
“Jesus,” Jeremiah swore, driving over the barely dry road. I plastered my face to the window, watching as the water started sloshing at the sides of the bridge, threating to come over. It would, any moment. We were only just making it in time.
I didn’t say anything, tense until we’d made it across the other side. I only glanced Jeremiah’s way once we were across. His jaw was tense again and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was.
We still had another crossing to go.
And the rain wasn’t letting up, not one bit.
